


Sherlock Holmes: Her Every Feature

by ATYPICAL28



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Best Friend John Watson, Choose Your Own Adventure, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Interactive Fiction, John Watson/Original Character Fluff, Movie: Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), POV John Watson, POV Original Female Character, POV Sherlock Holmes, Robert Downey Jr - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 06:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATYPICAL28/pseuds/ATYPICAL28
Summary: Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr) had never met someone who was so intriguing. Watson had never realized that Holmes was capable of falling for a "normal" woman. And Loraine Hathaway had never met someone so stubborn. But together, they certainly made a hell of a team.
Relationships: Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, John Watson/Original Female Character(s), Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. ♟ Cast ♟

**Featuring In Order of Appearance**

**_[Loraine Hathaway](https://data.whicdn.com/images/341446893/original.gif)\- Saoirse Ronan_ **

_"You've completely lost your head my dear John. Is it screwed on all right? I do_ not _have feelings for him..."_

**_[John Watson](https://25.media.tumblr.com/896b158960bd8540d7cee4a140ccc862/tumblr_mrsoipwywO1rw80z2o1_400.gif)\- Jude Law_ **

_"What on_ Earth _are you doing, Holmes? It's very rude to leave the room when you have a woman present."_

**_[Sherlock Holmes](https://64.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdpm7tOZff1qg72ijo2_250.gifv)\- Robert Downey Jr._ **

_"She could be of use to us, Watson. She's clever. Terribly clever. I can read it, well most of it, and I-"_

**_[Lord Blackwood](https://64.media.tumblr.com/07e250b7c92708ce9802a85328783164/tumblr_inline_oy00xw2o8t1qm2rbs_500.gifv)\- Mark Strong_ **

_"I won't rest until I have you in my grasp..."_

**_[Lestrade](https://64.media.tumblr.com/039472375964bbdbc041353e9c98add9/tumblr_inline_ojd1dnRobN1qgpnbi_400.gifv)\- Eddie Marston_ **

_"He's a numbskull if I ever knew one!"_

**_[Irene Adler](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/5f/90/135f90ab305841739c9e6ab698685938.gif)\- Rachel McAdams_ **

_"I don't really like her...but I can tell you do."_

**_[Mrs. Hudson](https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2018-10/14/2/enhanced/buzzfeed-prod-web-03/anigif_enhanced-17796-1539497596-1.gif)\- Geraldine James_ **

_"Would you leave the poor girl alone? You scared her half to death with your shenanigans!"_

**_[Ann Hathaway](https://i.gifer.com/CUKB.gif)\- Liv Tyler_ **

_"Oh my sweet baby. I just want you to be happy..."_

**_[Derek Hathaway](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b1/67/f3/b167f30a43c7c6bbe32588c5432280fa.gif)\- Jake Gyllenhaal_ **

_"Don't get lost where you find yourself wanting to be. No good will come of it."_


	2. Inside Out

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock Holmes movies or characters. All rights go to Guy Ritchie and Arthur Conan Doyle, who in my opinion was one of the most clever author's of his time. I only own my OC and their story._

"I'm so sorry, Shirley," the man said softly, handing her the last bag as she slung it over her shoulder. She refrained from letting the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes go. There was no way she was going to cry in front of the man who was taking her home away. He turned away from her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Yes, it was rather childish, but her hands were full and she couldn't lift her finger at him. _I don't like being pitied._ She had told her mother once when she came home from school years ago. Her mother smiled and pushed her hair back from her face. She had fallen ill, but was surely getting better by the day. _Then don't listen to those children. You're better than that._ Her mother. Both her parents were gone. She could still hear the gurgling sound of her father dying in the next room as she watched her mother bleed to death before her. _Whatever you do, don't come out. Take care of your mother and don't listen to what you hear on the other side of this door. Understood?_ Her father had made sure she stayed put, and she nodded, trembling down to the bone. 

_It's over. You can't go back. You can only move forward, Loraine Shirley Hathaway._ She told herself sternly, shifting her bag to a more comfortable position before starting down the cobblestone path. It was a grey day in London, the clatter of horse hooves moving hansoms down the streets and people chattering about what they should do with their lives. _You can only move forward._ She kept saying in her head, determined to find some place to stay that night. She had a good few hours to kill before darkness fell. _No need to rush._ As she walked swiftly through the city, she tried to remember the details of the scene she had happened upon after the police arrived at her house the previous day. _No. Not home. It's not your home anymore._

Her hands had been covered in her mother's blood as she held her limp body close, cursing to the God above that it wasn't fair. It never should have happened to such good people. How could he take away her only family? Her parents had never done anything wrong. Her father had been a shoe-maker at the end of the city, working alone as their income was low. Her mother had been a house servant for someone Loraine had never met, but she earned more money than her father. Loraine herself hadn't found work, but now she had no other choice. _Perhaps I should start there._ She thought, looking through a few store windows for a flier that may be offering a job. Finding none, she frowned and headed to the nearest bar. She needed a drink.

* * *

"One more won't hurt, sir," Loraine snickered, hiccupping and eyeing the bartender with a narrowed gaze. He continued wiping the counter as if he hadn't heard her and she looked down at her empty glass. She raised it up to him and combed back her blonde locks,

"Cheers you old pile of scum." The bartender threw down his rag and leaned over, glaring at her as she grinned back, showing a whole set of clean white teeth. She had never been allowed to drink before, and she found her head pounding horribly as she got to her feet, stumbling and falling flat on her butt to the ground. She earned a few annoyed glances from the other customers, but she hardly had clear enough vision to see them anyhow.

"Now, madam. I'm going to ask you to take your leave now," the bartender walked over to her, picked her up under her arms, and helped her outside. He sat her down on a bench and retrieved her bags that she had left inside,

"I'll call ya a hansom. Go home and get some rest."

"I don't have....have a....a home," she snapped, picking up her bags and nearly falling over. Someone swiftly caught her in their hold and she peered up into a pair of blue eyes. _What a pretty face._ She thought to herself as she smiled widely. He furrowed his brows and helped her sit back down, looking at the bartender,

"How many did she have, Grimsby?" _Lovely voice too. Smooth and serious._ Loraine leaned over, feeling her insides twist, and threw up her stomach's contents on the floor. The man scrunched up his face and returned his attention back to the bartender, who lowered his head and shrugged,

"She kept askin' for more! Maybe a dozen! I'm just doin' my job." The man went back inside, flustered and grumbling under his breath. The blue-eyed man shook his head and removed his hat, looking down at the woman as she shivered uncontrollably. _Too much to drink. Shit._ She vomited again, hating the vile taste at the back of her throat, burning and acidic. _Never again._

"Come on, ma'am. Let me help you get home," the man carefully lifted her up, putting an arm around her waist and taking one of her bags on his shoulder to reduce the weight she was carrying. Keeping his face turned away from her, he couldn't see the sadness that suddenly fell upon her features and she responded with a croak,

"No. Don't have no home." She hiccupped again and the man sighed softly, shaking his head as they walked across the street. The blood ran through her ears, heart pounding wildly as she lost her footing on the man several times. She kept apologizing incoherently, but he seemed to get it and told her not to worry about it. _You're going to be alright. I'm a doctor. You're welcome to stay the night._ The words were lost on Loraine though, and blackness engulfed her, taking her into a deep sleep.

* * *

"What do you _mean_ she has no home?! Look at her! She looks like she can take care of herself, Watson!" a voice whisper-yelled. Loraine kept her eyes closed as she tried to recall the previous events. She remembered having walked down London's streets and walking into a bar. _Shit. What the hell happened? Have I been kidnapped? No, I'm not strapped down or roped or anything. Thank God. Clothes are still on. Haven't been raped. I'm lying on a couch? I'm in someone's home. Not my home. Where the hell am I?_

"Don't you _Watson_ me! She has her bags packed! She had too much to drink! Aren't you supposed to know these things before I say anything?" that voice sounded familiar for some reason, and Loraine dared to open her eyes. Two men were across from her, facing one another with their sides to her. _Where have I seen that man before?_ _Blue eyes. Jesus my head is pounding like a fucking hammer._

"Don't patronize me!" the other man crossed his arms and glanced at Loraine, who had quickly shut her eyes again. The one she assumed was Watson, scoffed and shook his head.

"Why don't you just go play with your little poisons or something until she wakes up?" he suggested in an annoyed tone. He sat down on a chair and reached for a book on the side table beside him. 

"You fail to realize that she's already awake," the other man rolled his eyes and left the room for a moment before coming back with a platter. It held a bowl of pastries and three cups of tea. Watson leaned over and tilted his head at the woman,

"You're alright, ma'am. No need to pretend anymore. We are perfectly...well _I_ am a man of virtues. And a doctor. You had quite a bit to drink it seems." Loraine was sitting up now, slowly so as not to disrupt her head any more than it already was. Watson handed her a cup of tea and she thanked him, putting the rim to her lips and staring at the two men. The one with blue eyes was taller and had dirty-blonde hair greased back. He had a mustache, unlike the other man, who had stubble all over his face. He was very charming to say in the least, and quite...mysterious. This man had brown eyes that had a circle of amber within them. He had dark brown hair that looked almost black, which was a mess on top of his head. The edges of his lips twitched as he watched her and she blinked, setting the cup down and looking around.

It was a homey place with nice furniture. Though it was a bit untidy, it felt comforting and cozy. Looking out the window, she saw that it was dusk and she remembered that she was going to find a place to stay.

"I should go," she said hurriedly, looking around for her bags which were by the door, "I was going to rent a room at an inn you see. Um..." Loraine had gotten up and was moving towards the door, but turned back, having forgotten her manners.

"Thank you. It's nice to know there are sensible men in this world still," she smiled and turned back, but found herself to be blocked by the other man. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and looked her over. She felt small under his gaze and a shiver ran up her spine.

"Ah. I'd say you've lost your way, ma'am. You've just witnessed something nobody else should. Perhaps...death? A murder? And judging by the shock on your face, I'd wager I'm correct. Now, let's see..." he walked around her and Watson was making his way over,

"Holmes." He said in a warning tone, but neither him nor Loraine were listening. She only had ears for this peculiar man in front of her, deducing her and continuing on.

"You've never attended college, but are incredibly clever for your age....About twenty-four or twenty-five I presume? You were living with your parents and your home was taken...meaning..." his brows knitted together and she chewed on her bottom lip, trying to keep herself together. _Who does he think he is?_ _Taking me apart piece by piece? Perhaps he'd like a taste of his own medicine._

"They're dead. Murdered in fact. How was that?" he smiled in satisfaction and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. Watson was staring at him as if he had grown two heads and he opened his mouth to speak, but Loraine was quicker, throwing both men off guard.

"Very good, I suppose. Now, let me see. Judging by the calluses on your fingers, you play an instrument. Probably a violin. You don't do any dirty work outside, though you may need to clean up a bit anyhow. You yourself commit to your books and study hard throughout every day. You don't get paid well considering you have a roommate, meaning you're halfing the rent. Let me see...you enjoy writing about whatever it is you study. I could tell by the ink on your hands. Perhaps a reporter? And my final observation could be that you enjoy showing off your skill of reading people, but _I_ am not impressed. But I am _confounded_ that you brought up such a horrible subject," Loraine was out of breath by the time she was done speaking, lifting her head high and grabbing her bags.

"I'll be taking my leave now," she nodded and opened the door.

"Wait! How did you-" the man started, but Loraine cut him off, spinning around so quickly that he stumbled back and gawked at her.

"I will not be trifled with, sir. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a room to rent," she snapped.

"Why not stay?" Watson piped in, glancing at Holmes and giving him a let-me-handle-it look. Loraine narrowed her gaze,

"Why?"

"Why not? At least for the night," Watson offered her a smile, but she didn't return it. Instead, she set her bags down, crossed her arms, and said,

"I'm Loraine Hathaway."

"John Watson," the man nodded, gesturing to Holmes beside him. He brushed Watson's hand away and bowed his head,

"Sherlock Holmes. But you already knew that." Loraine couldn't help the smirk that played on her lips. _Of course I know him. I've read about his reading people. I just never thought I would meet him in person. Especially under such circumstances._

"Well played, Mr. Holmes. Well played."


	3. A Familiar Tune

_Oh what have you gotten yourself into, Loraine? Why couldn't you just walk out that door and not turn back? Why did you have to open your big fat mouth? Why does he keep staring at me like that?_ Sherlock was sitting in his armchair, plucking at the strings on his violin, the sound sometimes sounding eerie and muddy, while other times, it sounded bright and cheery. But as he plucked away at the strings carelessly, while Watson made something to eat, his eyes had been trained on her the entire time. Thankfully, the kind doctor had lent her a book to read and she didn't have to return the gaze. _I've had enough of this. I can't even get through the page because I'm rereading sentences!_

"Is there anything more you'd like to say?" Loraine suggested, closing the book and peering over at the detective. He raised his eyebrows and smirked,

"I do actually. How were you able to figure all that stuff about me? Was it merely based on rumors you've heard?" Loraine rolled her eyes and crossed a leg over the other, shaking her head.

"I don't like reading the paper most days because it's usually filled with rubbish. I didn't know you played the violin, but as it turns out, I was right about that. You're not very _good_ are you? Playing simple chords like that? Why not use your bow?" Loraine cocked a brow and patted herself on the back mentally, knowing it would get to him. He shot up out of his chair and shouted into the kitchen,

"Watson! Why did you let her stay!?" The doctor popped his head into the room, smiling at him,

"Oh I'm sorry. Did you want to leave her out in the cold all night and have her _freeze_ to death?" Sherlock glared at him, opened his mouth, but brushed him off, gliding across the room before disappearing out of sight. Watson came back with a bowl of soup, handing it to Loraine and sitting on the couch beside her. He checked her temperature and sighed,

"Sorry about him. He's not quite used to having guests over."

"Don't tell lies now, Watson!" Sherlock shouted from the other room. Loraine stifled a laugh and brought the soup to her mouth. She hummed in delight at how seasoned and creamy it was. _A doctor_ and _a cook._

"What on _Earth_ are you doing, Holmes? It's very rude to leave the room when you have a woman present," he replied back with a wink at Loraine. She was glad that _someone_ had a sense of humor here.

"So what are you planning to do after tonight?" Sherlock burst back into the room, making Loraine jump. The tips of his lips twitched and she could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile playing on them. She cleared her throat and set down her bowl, shrugging,

"I'll stay in a hotel for a while, find a job, and rent an apartment." Sherlock laughed heartily and she furrowed her brows. _Now what is so funny?_ Watson gave him a curious look, as if waiting to see what he had to say this time. 

"For someone who has only lived with her parents, I hardly believe you'll be able to manage!" He perked up and picked up his violin. It was then that Loraine noticed he had brought his bow out of his room and she crossed her arms over her chest. _Of course he's going to show off._ He began playing [Offenbach](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7czptgEvvU), which was one of her favorites. She watched the way his bow slid along the strings gracefully, the instrument placed upon his shoulder as he rested his head, closing his eyes as if he too was engulfed in the music. _Impressive I suppose._ Loraine admired the way he played, unlike anyone she had ever seen play in fact. It was different for some reason. He seemed to be in a different place as his hand went back and forth across the violin, the music filling their ears. She smiled softly, the song reminding her of one of her birthdays. Her mother and father had surprised her with a party and invited everyone she knew from places they had been. England was a big one. All her cousins were there. 

* * *

_"Why don't you go dance?" her father had suggested, gesturing to the ballroom they had rented. It was grand, holding a beautiful chandelier where diamonds dangled from the tips. The marble floor and white painted walls made the room bright and cheerful. She looked away bashfully and shook her head. Every man in the room was wearing a suit and spinning about with a partner. She wasn't the type to spin around in circles until she grew dizzy. Then again, it was always her excuse._

_"I'll go with her, dear," her mother came up beside them and kissed her husband's cheek, smiling and taking Loraine's arm as she led her onto the floor. Loraine's face grew hot as her mother took her hands and motioned down at her feet._

_"Just watch me and follow," she said softly. Loraine nodded, taking one more glance at the people around them. Twenty-one. She was now considered an adult, and she didn't know how to dance. Her mother stepped to the right and left. One and two and one and two and one and two. Step together step together. Loraine followed the best she could, everything around her becoming a daze. A song played in the background, ringing quietly in her ears. It was a lovely tone. Something she had never heard before. But she loved it and would never forget what it sounded like._

_"There you go!" her mother laughed, spinning her around. Loraine enjoyed the way her dress twirled with her, light and flowy._

_"Excuse me? May I step in?" her father appeared and bowed before Loraine, who chuckled and took his arm. They walked further onto the floor, swallowed within the group of people that paid no attention to them as they danced the night away._

* * *

"Miss Loraine? Are you quite alright?" Watson's voice broke her trance and she looked at him, head spinning with the notes and melody that Sherlock had been playing. But he wasn't playing anymore. He had kneeled in front of her and was staring at her with confusion. She blinked and shook her head,

"I'm sorry." Loraine hadn't realized he had stopped playing, and now both men looked concerned for her. She blushed deeply as Sherlock looked at her, frowning.

"Wrong choice of song, hmm dear?" He whispered, turning to Watson and raising a brow. Seeming to understand that expression, he got up and headed to the kitchen. Sherlock carefully brushed a thumb over her cheek and Loraine felt a tear had slid along her face. 

"Perhaps we should talk about...well....I think I could be of help," Sherlock said softly. Loraine was about to say something when Watson came back into the room with a cup of tea. She took it gingerly and took a sip. It eased her a bit more and she nodded.

"I can't thank you two enough," she said with a nervous laugh. She had never met such gentlemen before. Who knew Sherlock Holmes could be so...charming? Yes, he may have been...quite a character. But there was more to him, she thought. He cleared his throat and got to his feet, moving back to the corner of the room. Once she had finished her drink, Watson took the cup and looked at the clock on the mantle, 

"You can sleep in my room for tonight." Loraine smiled and shook her head,

"It's alright. I-"

"I insist," Watson cut her off with a hand, and she nodded. As he went to go set up for her, she got up and walked over to Sherlock. He stared at her. Simply stared at her with a blank expression. But his eyes seemed to show more. They sparkled lightly in the candlelight, the flame dancing in his eyes. He seemed intrigued that she had approached him, and she spoke softly,

"You play beautifully." And with that, she followed after Watson, who had been watching with a sad smile on his face, for he knew more than her.


	4. Information

** *Watson's POV* **

The doctor had no intention on spying on the two as Loraine approached Holmes, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him and as he watched his close friend stare at the woman with a glistening in his eyes, he wondered....Watson firmly shook his head. He knew it wasn't true. How could it be? After all these years? _Perhaps it is possible._ He decided as he went back to making the bed for their guest. _But how can it work? She couldn't possibly.... **Oh that's enough John! You mustn't get caught up in all this! She's going to leave tomorrow and that will be that. Move on.**_ But he couldn't stop thinking about the expression on Sherlock's face. A mix of interest and admiration. He had only ever seen it once, and he knew for a fact that it wouldn't work out. _Irene Adler. Surely he hasn't forgotten about her._ Watson scrunched up his face. He never liked the woman. He didn't think she was right for his friend, for she only brought out the bad side of him.

_This is different though. I can feel it down in my bones. But whatever am I to do about it?_ Before he could think of something, Loraine walked in, her head lowered shyly as she mumbled a soft 'thank you'.

"Of course. I'll leave you to it then," Watson flashed her a kind smile and left her to go sit on the couch. Sherlock had his gaze turned to the window, a faraway look in his eyes. Watson cleared his throat, opening a book and flipping to the page he was on. He didn't read however, but watched as Holmes spun around to face him-something he expected to happen-and waited. The detective opened his mouth, closed it, pondered, and finally said,

"She could be of use to us, Watson. She's clever. Terribly clever. I can read it, well most of it, and I-" Sherlock cut himself off, pacing around the room as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. He mumbled to himself, Watson only catching a few of the words. _Blackwood. Key. Information. Beautiful._ Watson blinked. Had he just imagined the last bit? Sherlock turned back to him and he could see the pure excitement on his friend's face,

"Tomorrow evening. She'll come with us! Perhaps she can help with the mystery. It's brilliant!" His voice was in a harsh whisper, but all the same, Watson wondered if Loraine could hear what his companion was going on about. Watson chuckled lightly despite himself and smirked up at Holmes, who raised his brows at him,

"Do you doubt you can solve it? You've solved so many cases, and yet, you believe a complete _stranger_ could be of use? Am I missing something, Holmes?" Sherlock waved a finger at him and gave him a serious look.

"Don't play with me, Watson. I know what I'm talking about. You'll see," he went back to talking to himself, but Watson ignored it and replied,

"Uh-huh. And what if she doesn't _agree_ to go with us? And I don't reckon you'll be putting her in danger?"

"I know for a _fact_ that she _will_ come along. She...she...craves adventure, Watson! It's written clear on her face! Funny, I don't believe she's easy to read at all, yet I'm sure about this," Sherlock snapped back, losing his patience. For a moment, Watson wondered if he should ask what she had said to him while he had been making up his room, but he thought better and instead said,

"I suppose you can just ask her in the morning. Now, I'm off to bed." And with that, the doctor flicked the light off and rested on the couch, trying his best to ignore the eyes that were boring into the back of his head.

* * *

** *Sherlock's POV* **

_What's gotten into him? Surely I'm making more sense than usual? He was going to say something else, but thought it wrong to say. What was he going to say?_

"No matter," Holmes whispered to himself, picking up his violin and plucking at the strings carelessly. _She knew that song. It was one of my first songs. A true beauty indeed. But the look in her eyes as she was reminded of something else. Idiot. A complete fool! Why didn't you just ask for a recommendation? Oh those eyes! I can't get them out of my head. I've never seen such inspiration in someone's face before! Inspiration?! Inspiration?! You must be losing your God damn mind after all Holmes! He'll see._ Sherlock glanced at the sleeping doctor across from him and scoffed quietly. _He'll see soon enough that I'm right. I'm always right. I can feel it coursing through my veins._

* * *

** *Loraine's POV* **

Loraine woke in an unfamiliar bed and everything came crashing back to her. She moaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she clambered out of bed. She had slept in her clothes, being too exhausted to change into something else. She pulled on her shoes and made her way into the living room. Watson was still sleeping on the couch and she frowned at the position he was in. His arm was over his face and his legs were far too small for the piece of furniture. He would probably wake up with an aching neck. Sherlock was also sleeping in the armchair, his small instrument in his hands as he snored peacefully. _Well then. Do I stay or go?_ She looked at her bags that were still sitting by the door and she sighed heavily.

** *Choice* **

[Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084774/chapters/74096916)

[Leave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084774/chapters/74096946#workskin)


	5. Information

**_Stay_ **

Loraine smiled softly at the two men sleeping and made her way over to the window, not enjoying how dark it was in the room. She actually tripped over Sherlock, losing her footing and grasping onto his chair for support. His eyes snapped open and he sat up and stared at her, obviously not seeming to take in who she was. She blushed a deep shade of red as he rubbed his eyes and threw his head back in relief,

"Is that you Watson? I was having such a horrible dream that we let this woman into the apartment and she-" He stopped talking and peered up at her, blinking and shaking his head.

"Oh. It wasn't a dream," he whispered to himself. Loraine smirked at his stupid remark and reached for the curtain. He gasped and shook his head,

"No don't do that!" But Loraine had already tugged them open, letting the bright almost afternoon light shine through brightly. Sherlock grumbled in frustration, covering his face and crawling away from the light, like a vampire would. Loraine chuckled and looked to the doctor who was now waking up and yawning.

"Dear Heavens. Did I really sleep in?" he checked his watch and scoffed at himself, launching to his feet and making his way to the kitchen. He moved to open the other curtains and Sherlock scrambled to his feet,

"Be gentle with me Watson!" Watson had hardly comprehended his plea before he, like Loraine, opened the curtains. _There. Now it's much nicer in here._ She brushed a finger over the side table and frowned at the dust that now covered it. _Right. An apartment with two men. Makes sense._ The detective glared at the two of them and adjusted to the light. It took him a moment to regain his composure before he slumped into a chair and looked at Loraine.

"Ah. I was going to ask you something. Would you care to stay another day? I believe you could really help me on a case I'm working on," he smirked lightly and Loraine started laughing as Watson came into the room, shocked at her sudden outburst. 

"Now what is so funny?" Sherlock commanded defensively. 

"Clever. The greatest detective of London wants _my_ help. Hah!" Loraine sat herself on the couch and smiled at him, waiting for him to start laughing too. But he just scrunched up his brows and shook his head,

"I was being serious."

"He was. He told me last night," Watson agreed, flipping open his book. _Wait. What? Sherlock wants_ me _of all people to help him with a case? How ironic!_

"But why? Won't I just get in the way?" Loraine had a difficult time picturing herself working under cover, let alone solving a mystery. John Watson was a doctor, so it made sense why he would help. He had skill when it came to knowing what effects deaths and how someone had died. Sherlock...well...was Sherlock. But how was she to help? She had no experience with a gun, no idea how to detect a lie, and she highly doubted she could track someone down. So why her?

"Difficult to say. But perhaps you're right," Sherlock shrugged, "You wouldn't be able to handle it." Loraine gaped at him and clenched her fists at his words. He was toying with her now, and she most certainly did not like it one bit. Watson looked between the two, amused.

"I beg your pardon?! Now you don't know me at all, Mr. Holmes! I'll do it! I'll agree to your little game of wits!" Loraine huffed, getting to her feet and glaring daggers into the detective. He just stared back at her and grinned, checking his watch. 

"Very well. We'll just have to see then, won't we?" with that, Sherlock took a coat from the rack and headed out, leaving Loraine with the very humbled doctor.

[Next Chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084774/chapters/74097018)


	6. Information

**_Leave_ **

_I shouldn't take up anymore of their time._ Loraine grabbed her bags and set out into the cool morning. The wind tore at her clothes as she listened to the clicking of her shoes on the path. It was nearly noon by the sun's position, and she shook her head,

"I never sleep in." She thought back to the previous night and smiled. She had really met the famous Sherlock Holmes. And she had outsmarted him too. John Watson had helped her, and in return, she had burdened them. She looked into shop windows, wondering if she would have better luck at finding a job. Before she could get very far down the street though, someone practically rammed into her and she toppled to the ground.

* * *

** *Sherlock's POV* **

"Watson! Get up! Watson!" he shook his companion awake, glancing back at the window where the woman was striding along the street still. He wasn't going to lose her. He needed her for this mission. His plan was going to work, and he was going to prove the doctor wrong.

"What is it, Holmes? It's...what time is it?" the man mumbled, brushing him away with a hand before snuggling back into his pillow.

"Never mind the time, Watson! There's no time to lose! You must go after her!" the detective smacked his partner with a pillow, making him jump to his feet and glare at the man.

"What is wrong with you!?" Watson shouted, snatching the pillow from Sherlock and throwing it on the couch. The detective sighed dramatically and pointed at the door,

"She left! Go get her!" Watson blinked.

"What?!" he was losing his temper now, but the detective remained calm and collected as he repeated slowly,

"You. Need. To. Get. Her. Back."

"The Hell I do! You do it!" Watson slumped in his chair and opened his book. Sherlock stared at him. He then kneeled down and clasped his hands together, as if in prayer,

"Please?" Watson ignored him, licked his thumb, and turned the page. Sherlock stood up, fixed his top, and headed to the door. He took his hat and placed it on his head before saying, 

"Thank you for your help!" Watson snickered to himself, shaking his head and whispering,

"Sure is infatuated with this one." 

* * *

Loraine stared up at the detective who had ran into her and glared. He offered her a hand and she got back to her feet, dusting herself off and putting her hands on her hips.

"What's the meaning of this? Why are you running into people?" she snapped.

"You need to come back," Sherlock said coolly, picking up her back for her. She snatched it from him and shook her head,

"Why?"

"Would you care to stay another day? I believe you could really help me on a case I'm working on," he smirked lightly and Loraine furrowed her brows in confusion. She then opened her mouth and grinned,

"Clever. The greatest detective of London wants _my_ help. Hah!" Loraine smiled at him, rolling her eyes.

"I was being serious," Sherlock stated with a cocked brow.

_Wait. What? Sherlock wants_ me _of all people to help him with a case? It's ironic!_

"But why? Won't I just get in the way?" Loraine had a difficult time picturing herself working under cover, let alone solving a mystery. John Watson was a doctor, so it made sense why he would help. He had skill when it came to knowing what effects deaths and how someone had died. Sherlock...well...was Sherlock. But how was she to help? She had no experience with a gun, no idea how to detect a lie, and she highly doubted she could track someone down. So why her?

"Difficult to say. But perhaps you're right," Sherlock shrugged, "You wouldn't be able to handle it." Loraine gaped at him and clenched her fists at his words. He was toying with her now, and she most certainly did not like it one bit. 

"I beg your pardon?! Now you don't know me at all, Mr. Holmes! I'll do it! I'll agree to your little game of wits!" Loraine huffed, glaring daggers into the detective. He just stared back at her and grinned, checking his watch. 

"Very well. We'll just have to see then, won't we?" with that, Sherlock took her case back and started back towards the apartment. _Oh yes. I will surely show him._

[Next Chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084774/chapters/74097018)


	7. Shadows

Loraine was having a difficult time trying to stay right beside Holmes, considering he was running down the dark alleys rather swiftly. They ran through a courtyard and came to a door. He opened it without hesitation and she panted heavily as she followed him inside. _So much for needing my help!_ She said to herself, flustered with this detective once again in the few hours she had known him. He glanced back at her over his shoulder as he leaned against a wall to catch his breath as well. Relieved, Loraine joined him in rest, but not before he peered down a stairwell, gasping silently to himself. He moved again, covering himself in the shadows as he approached a glowing lantern light.

Sherlock quickly grabbed Loraine, casting his jacket over to two of them and holding a hand to her mouth. Her back was to his chest as she struggled against his grip. She ceased when he hushed her, somewhat feeling comforted and reassured. She heard the footsteps coming closer and focused on the detective's breathing against her. He was relaxed, as if this was no sweat to him. _It probably isn't._ She assumed to herself, rolling her eyes. She saw the light of the lantern shine through the jacket and she panicked, her breathing heavy. But it disappeared again and she calmed down, wondering what the hell Holmes was waiting for.

* * *

** *Sherlock's POV* **

_Head cocked to the left, partial deafness in right ear. First point of attack._ His thoughts cranked in his head quickly and he threw the jacket off the two of them, launching himself and punching the man so that his head was thrown back, spinning around. _Then throat, paralyze vocal chords, stop screaming._ Sherlock smacked the man's throat as he let out a slight scream. _Stink of alcohol, heavy drinker. Knuckles to liver._ With one final blow to the stomach, the man toppled to his knees and fell on his face. The detective, smirking proudly, removed the bowler hat from the man's head and put it on his own.

He glanced up at the woman that he had forgotten about until now and straightened himself up, motioning with his head for her to help him move the man out of the hall. She nodded, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish as they moved him into the shadows. Loraine grunted at the weight she was carrying before dropping him and wiping her hands on her pants. Sherlock wondered if she always wore this type of clothing. He couldn't quite picture her in a dress. She was different.

Satisfied with the man's hiding spot, Sherlock grabbed the lantern and continued down the steps. Another man was coming up. He looked to see Loraine already taking cover, and Sherlock grinned, liking how she was already catching on to how things were working. He then hid himself again and knocked the second man out, pulling a cigar from his pocket and sniffing it.

"Hmm. Good cigar. Who do you work for?" Sherlock spoke to himself. It was something he was accustomed to. Watson was the only other one to keep him company, but he was mostly on his own. A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder and he spun to see the woman with piercing green eyes. There were specks of blue that he could see in the light of the lantern and he let out the breath he had been holding.

"Sorry. Moving on. Oh! Watson! Perfect timing," Sherlock smiled at the doctor who had just appeared behind them. Loraine sent him a grin and he returned it.

"Nice hat," he raised a brow at the hat Holmes had taken and Loraine giggled. Sherlock's stomach twisted and he shook the feeling away quickly, changing the topic,

"Where's Lestrade?"

"Getting his troops in formation," Watson confirmed, nodding. Loraine gasped and pointed at Sherlock's shirt,

"Is that your blood or theirs?" The detective couldn't help but smirk a little as he shrugged and relished the way she freaked out over this. Certainly she had seen blood before right? _No that's not it. Why is she so worried? I'm clearly fine._

"I don't know. It's an old shirt," he winked at her and he could make out the tint of pink on her cheeks. Pretending not to notice (but making a mental note to bring it up later), he went to head down the stairs again.

"You left this behind," Watson said, removing a pistol from his pocket. Sherlock frowned and gave it a distasteful look.

"Knew I'd forgotten something. Thought I'd left the stove on," Sherlock said, furrowing his brows as Watson handed the gun to Loraine. She tilted her head and went to take it, but Sherlock snatched it and pocketed it, grumbling to himself. _She can't handle a gun! What is he thinking?!_

"You did," Watson sighed, shaking his head. Loraine stifled her laughter and Sherlock shot her a glare. _Two can play at that game, woman._ He thought, gesturing to the stairs,

"Right. Should we go on then?" Loraine and Watson shared an amused look and Holmes scoffed, rolled his eyes, and went on without waiting for them. _What a pair. How did I get so lucky?_ He asked himself sarcastically, determining the possibilities that were just around the corner.


End file.
